Page 1 of Tempting Harriet
Chapter 1
“Harriet. My dear.” Lady Forbes clasped her hands to her bosom and gazed admiringly at her younger friend. “Youlook quite delectable. You will be all the rage before theevening is out. Does she not, Clive? And will she not?”
Sir Clive Forbes turned from the sideboard at which he was pouring drinks and looked at the lady who had just entered his drawing room and was blushing rosily. “You lookvery handsome, Harriet,” he said, smiling kindly and crossing the room toward her in order to hand her a glass. “Butthen I do not remember a time when you did not.”
“Thank you.” Harriet, Lady Wingham, laughed a little nervously and took the offered glass. “It still seems strangeto be wearing light colors again after a year in black. Itfeels even stranger to be wearing something so—sparse.”She glanced down at her almost bare bosom and arms. “ButI was assured that this design is all the crack.”
“If it were not,” Sir Clive said gallantly, “then you would soon make it so, Harriet.”
“You must trust me,” Lady Forbes said. “Did I not promise when you were finally persuaded to come to townfor the Season that I would bring you into fashion, mydear? Not that I was taking on an onerous task. You are stillas lovely as a girl, even though you must be—?”
“Eight-and-twenty,” Harriet said. She grimaced. “A ludicrous age at which to be making my entrée into polite society.”
“But still beautiful,” Lady Forbes said. “And widows are always intriguing. Especially young and lovely ones.”
“And wealthy ones,” Sir Clive added with a twinkle in his eye.
“It helps,” Lady Forbes said. “Do sit down, dear. We are early. But Robin will be here soon. You will like him as anescort. He quite understands that you are new to Londonand to the Season and that you have come to meet gentlemen.”
“Oh, I have not—” Harriet protested.
“It is as well to call a spade a spade,” her friend said, holding up a staying hand. “Of course you have, my dear.You are young and have been widowed for well over ayear. And Godfrey, rest his soul, was neither a young nor arobust man.”
“I loved him,” Harriet said quietly, seating herself carefully so as not to crease the delicate lace and satin of her ball gown.
“That was obvious,” Sir Clive said kindly. “You were unfailingly good to him, Harriet. But he is gone. He wouldbe the first to want you to go on enjoying life.”
“Yes, he would,” Harriet said. “But I am not desperately searching for his successor. I have Susan, after all.”
“But daughters do not quite make up for the lack of a husband,” Lady Forbes said. “Besides, Susan needs a father.”
“There is someone at the door,” Sir Clive said. “It will be Robin. Harriet my dear, I can see we have been alarmingyou. You arrived in town only a week ago and are about toattend your first London ball and already we are talkingabout your finding a husband. What we should be advisingyou to do is enjoy yourself. But without a doubt you will dothat. You will certainly not lack for partners.”
The butler entered the drawing room at that moment to announce the arrival of Mr. Robin Hammond. Harriet roseand curtsied when he was presented to her. She had not methim before. He was an auburn-haired, fresh-faced gentleman of about her own age. His elegantly clad figureshowed signs of portliness to come. He was a cousin ofAmanda’s and had kindly agreed to escort Harriet to LadyAvingleigh’s ball. He bowed and gazed admiringly at thepale blue confection of a ball dress that had been made forthe occasion.
“You see, Robin?” Lady Forbes said bluntly as her husband handed him a drink. “I told you she was a beauty, did I not?”
“You did indeed, Amanda,” Mr. Hammond agreed, flushing.
Fifteen minutes later the four of them were in Sir Clive’s carriage on the way to the Earl of Avingleigh’s home onBerkeley Square. Harriet shivered beneath her wrap, partlyfrom the slight chill of the evening air and partly from nervous apprehension. It was still hard to believe that her four-year marriage to Godfrey gave her entrance totonevents.They had lived so simply and so quietly in Bath that shehad scarcely been aware of the significance of the fact thathe was a baron. And until his death fifteen months before,she had been quite ignorant of the fact that he was a verywealthy man. Though of course he had always been generous to her. He had always insisted that she have pretty andfashionable clothes. He had left a generous portion to theirdaughter. Everything else he had left to Harriet.
Without even being quite aware of the fact, Harriet thought, she had been elevated socially. Although her father had been a gentleman, he had been a mere country parson. His early death had left her mother with only enoughmoney on which to live very frugally in Bath. Harriet herself had been forced to take employment as a lady’s companion, though she had been very fortunate in heremployer. Clara had seemed more of a friend than an employer. But the association had ended eventually afterClara’s marriage and a pregnancy had made Harriet's position redundant, though Clara had urged her to stay anyway.But there had been another reason for leaving . . .
“We are arriving at the fashionable time, it seems,” Mr. Hammond said, moving his head close to the window andgazing ahead. “There must be five carriages pulled upahead of ours.”
“We will have to be patient, then,” Sir Clive said. “This ball is expected to be the greatest squeeze of the early partof the Season, I gather.”
“It usually is,” his wife agreed.
Harriet shivered again and had to make a conscious effort to stop her teeth from chattering. This was not the firsttime she had been in London. Mr. Sullivan, Clara’s husband, had brought them there once for a brief visit and shown them all the famous sights. On one memorable occasion he had taken them to the theater. On most of those outings his friend had been Harriet’s escort. Lord ArchibaldVinney—tall, blond, handsome, charming. Harriet swallowed and remembered the pathetically naive girl she hadbeen then, though she had been two-and-twenty at the time.Although she had thought herself on her guard, she had stillbelieved when he began to propose to her that it was marriage he was offering. An aristocrat, heir to a dukedom,proposing marriage to a little mouse of a lady’s companion!Harriet felt embarrassment for her former self. It was a verygenerouscarte blanchehe had been offering.
Finally their carriage drew level with the open doors into the Avingleigh mansion. They waited until a footman letdown the steps. Sir Clive helped his wife to the pavementand then Mr. Hammond helped Harriet. She glanced up theshallow flight of steps into the brightly lit hall. It appearedto be milling with liveried servants and splendidly cladguests. Suddenly she no longer felt overdressed. She wasnot going to be conspicuous after all. But her stomach performed a giant somersault and she took Mr. Hammond’soffered arm with gratitude. At the grand age of eight-and-twenty she was attending her first London ball and feelingas excited and nervous as a girl.
Lord Archibald Vinney, she thought, looking about her nervously as they entered the crowded hall and LadyForbes whisked her off toward the ladies’ withdrawingroom. Was he in London? Would he be at Lady Avingleigh’sball? Was he married? She had heard nothing about himsince Clara’s return to London from her country home sixyears before had sent Harriet fleeing home to Bath lest shesee him again and give in to the dreadful temptation to acceptcarte blanche.Clara knew of her infatuation and hadnever mentioned him, though she wrote frequently. Andyet, Harriet had to admit, though it would have been easierto deny the truth, he was a large part of her reason for accepting Amanda’s invitation to spend a few months in London for the Season now that her year of mourning for Godfrey was over.
It sounded laughable. Itwaslaughable. After six years she could still feel sick with longing at the mere thought ofhim. She had come to London to enjoy herself, to fulfill agirlhood dream that had seemed unrealizable until very recently. She had come to shop and to visit, to mingle and todance. She had come to live out the youth that had passedher by in some dullness. She had come because she was awidow and had found that a dull widowhood did not havethe sense of security or bring the contentment that a ratherdull marriage had brought. She had come because Godfreywas dead and there was no bringing him back, though shehad bitterly mourned his loss. She had come because Susanwould enjoy a change of scenery and some of the pleasuresof town. And because perhaps—though probably not—shewould catch a glimpse of Lord Archibald Vinney again.
“No,” Lady Forbes said with a sigh and a laugh, turning away from a looking glass at which she had adjusted herhair and the shoulders of her gown, “there is nothing you can possibly do to improve your appearance, Harriet, dear.One cannot improve upon perfection. Ah, to be young andlovely again. Though I was only ever one of the two.” Shechuckled. “Do you like Robin? He is rather dull, I mustconfess, but I am fond of the boy.”
